Velvet Gloves and Iron Chains
by Hannibal3125
Summary: Follow the story of Lady Sophia, former heiress and prisoner of the Darkwood Bordello, through her past and her life after the arrival of Saber...
1. The Heiress

A/N: This is a rather unusual story for me – it began life as a request from a reviewer. This was previously a story I didn't see myself writing…but here it is. In this story, the Hero of Oakvale is a tad dark, more self-centered, neither really bad nor really good – what I like to call "morally ambiguous" – though he is slowly reformed throughout his contact with Lady Sophia. For those who consider leaving negative criticism regarding the content (i.e., "I hate that you…"), please consider the difficulty in inventing the past and future of a character with a tiny bit part before leaving such. Then you can leave it, if you still think it warrants it. All other honest critique is, of course, very welcome.

Chapter 1: Now and Then

The dark-haired schoolteacher stepped out of the Oakvale Tavern and into the salty breeze that blew through the town in the evening, content to have her belly full. She began to glide along the path up the tree- covered hill toward her modest home, stopping only when a man stepped over from a nearby house.

His face bore a faint look of embarrassment as he spoke. "Sorry to bother ya, Miss Sophia, but I just wanted to apologize for Rupert's behavior at school. His mum and I taught him better and he won't be doin' it again."

The lady of the house stepped out her door and glared at her husband. "Shame on you, bothering the poor teacher so late in the day. Bad enough she's got to deal with those children all day, without being pestered at night…"

Sophia laughed at the scolding. "It's all right, Mrs. Wren. And I appreciate the apology. " She turned and continued to her home while the couple re-entered their own.

As she walked, she thought back to a time that she wouldn't have been so grateful for such little things as a good meal and a sincere apology….

* * *

"But, Father! All the young girls in Bowerstone North are wearing new dresses like that!" A shapely young maiden sputtered in a rather spoiled tone.

"All except for you." The man before her stated imperiously. "Even this family cannot afford to constantly pay for your frivolous spending! Hence, the footmen will be returning these." He gestured to the servants behind him removing a substantial portion of her wardrobe.

Couldn't afford to pay? The maiden found that a bit hard to believe. After all, her family was part of the Ednows of Bowerstone North, the famous trading family for, and thus part of, the rich high-born citizens of that region. The only family wealthier was the Grey family, the Mayor's people. She whined some more to her father. "But they're all Ednow merchandise! Uncle Hector wrote up the bill of sale himself. And we all know that I'm his favorite niece." Young Sophia declared haughtily.

"You're his favorite niece largely because of the obscene commissions he keeps earning off your purchases despite our family discount! AH! No speaking further on this matter; my mind is made up. You will have an allowance. If you wish to spend more than that, then you must find a way to obtain your own gold." Seamus Ednow declared before turning to head down the stairs.

Sophia pouted, then sat heavily upon her bed in a fit of selfish annoyance. A glint to her left, near the head of her bed, caught her eye. Hopeful and curious, she turned to discover what intriguing object was causing the shimmer.

Alas, it was only part of the binding of one of her books. Her collection wasn't vast, but it did contain enough information to satisfy those obnoxious, but thankfully occasional, bursts of inquisitiveness that plagued her and distracted her from keeping up with trends.

Both her desire for knowledge and her obsession for stylish fashions benefitted from one gift that truly distinguished her from the other rich young ladies in town - a memory capacity so dizzyingly large, it seemed to border on the infinite. If she read or heard a fact twice, she recalled it, according to town lore. She knew it wasn't quite so impressive, but it enhanced her reputation and gained her attention, so why quibble over mere details?

A commotion arose in the street in front of her home. Sophia rolled her eyes as she headed downstairs to find out what the whole ado was about. _Probably the Mayor's daughters, Amanda and Elvira, fighting about Amanda's boyfriend again._ Those two always seemed to be ready to fight. _Who am I kidding?! Elvira seems ready to kill!_ Granted, the boy whose family had moved here from Oakvale seemed a bit…below Amanda's station. But it was Amanda's choice, ultimately.

Stepping outside the door immediately showed the young lady just how wrong she was. In the midst of the throng of townspeople stood Weaver, Guildmaster of the Heroes' Guild. The last time he'd been here in Bowerstone North, he'd collected that nerdy little waif, Rose, after her family had put her out. His presence was an event in itself.

His news was more so. As Sophia listened, she learned of the destruction of Oakvale by bandits. Apparently, only a few people had survived, mostly children who had hidden during the raid. She saw Seamus looking over a list of those the Heroes had confirmed dead; his face clouded over at one name.

She looked over another copy someone else was holding, scanning for names she knew. She soon found one –Hector Ednow.

Sophia Ednow's world shattered in that instant. _Uncle Hector?! Dead?! No, it's not possible! _Kindly old Uncle Hector, whom her father assumed was just as greedy and money-minded as himself… he'd told her just yesterday about a business run out to Oakvale and promised to find her something nice. Now he was gone, the victim of a random bandit attack.

The rest of the day was lost to her; memories jumbled about in a haze of grief and sorrow. Her best friend in the world, her uncle, was dead; her prize wardrobe had been stripped of its most lustrous garments; and just when she most needed to shop and buy some new outfits, her financial resources had been curtailed!

The indignity of an allowance struck her repeatedly throughout the day and whispered poisonously bitter words to her as she fell asleep that night.

* * *

Sophia sat down on her humble bed in her tiny Oakvale cottage. She'd already eaten and cleaned her skirt. The damp dirt outside would leave a faint stain as a reminder to focus on her steps before her. Unfortunately, it found a kindred stain on her heart. Sophia knew what tonight would bring to her dreams. Tonight, the suffering would begin anew.

Tonight, she would remember.


	2. The Bargain

A/N: Sorry about the delay. Here's a big chapter to reward your patience.

Chapter 2 – The Bargain

The nights in Oakvale were rarely ever hot. The sea beside which the idyllic little village sat ensured a moderately stable warmth in summer and coolness in winter. Tonight, however, in one small home, the night was frigidly cold.

Mind you, this was not the sort of cold one could escape by stoking the fire in the hearth or by retreating beneath another blanket. This cold was that of memory best forgotten.

* * *

A young woman slipped as she left the Bowerstone Tavern; the grime of the street stained her fancy dress, while a bit of broken cobblestone tore part of it. She stood with a haughty expression in a vain attempt to spite those lower-class laborers who had witnessed the event and were now laughing at her. Sophia Ednow decided that home was the best place for her right now, and hastily made her way there, hoping that none of her friends would learn of this.

As she neared the house, she noticed the light downstairs was still lit. At this late hour, that could only be bad for her. She supposed that the day she'd long dreaded had finally arrived – her father had most likely discovered the ever-growing debt she owed to the local shopkeepers. She grimaced as she thought back over her plan to recover the money and pay off the shops.

It had seemed so elegant – use her excellent memory to win the money at the Card Pairs table in the Tavern. However, her recall wasn't always quick enough to keep pace with the Gamemaster's watch. So far, she'd barely cleared enough to pay off her losses. Tonight had not been one of her more stellar nights. Father would not be pleased.

Sophia sighed and entered, bracing for another lecture.

But her father merely sat there in stern silence, smoking his pipe. The room, normally warm in the fire's glow, somehow seemed icy and unforgiving. She quietly and meekly took the seat near her father, only too late realizing what such an action would reveal; his eyes darted down to the dirty rip, and his bushy eyebrows came together to render his bald visage all the more severe.

Finally the silence was broken. Seamus was staring out the window now as he spoke. "I did some business with a cloth merchant over at the Quay this morning. He started to grouch about how some of the local shops were getting behind in their payments. I got curious, went to a couple of the shops, and what, dear daughter, do you suppose I found?" He turned back to her with an expectant gaze.

She was caught. And worse, he knew she was; he also knew that she knew exactly what he'd found and wanted her to confess. Sophia gulped softly before timidly squeaking out, "You found over 3000 gold of debt to my name."

His jaw dropped, and his pipe clattered to the floor. Uh-oh. That must mean he'd only talked to a couple of the shops she hadn't much frequented. The light could have been playing tricks, but she was certain that his face was turning an awful maroon.

He slowly rose from his chair. "Three…THOUSAND?!"

She shrunk into her seat.

"Young lady, you should be ashamed! Dragging our good name down with those rabble…!" Seamus turned to the back wall for a moment, then faced her again. "I told you before that you would have to obtain your own gold to supplement your allowance. It's obvious that you have ignored that. So, your debt is your own. _You_ must repay it. We'll not pay it off just so you can run it up again."

Sophia gasped. "But the debt is coming due soon! How am I to repay it on my own?"

Her father inclined his head to her and glared down his nose. "You should have considered that before spending money you didn't have."

Two days later, the shops sent a representative to warn her that failure to pay her debt within two more days' time would result in repossession of the goods purchased. That was unfathomable to the spoiled heiress. In desperation, she hit the gambling tables…and sank deeper into financial ruin.

With less than a day left to the deadline, she had to find 4700 gold to repay her debts. And the rumors about the means by which gamemasters dealt with those who couldn't pay simply made the situation worse. She was at her wits' end.

Then she happened to literally bump into a rather ugly old drinker at the bar. He leered at her and looked over her body as though she were a cut of meat rather than a woman.

She asked several other patrons nearby for some money. One man told her, "Look, lady, if ya gots debts, sell something expensive and pay 'em that way."

The look of horror on her face told plainly her thoughts on that idea. The ugly drunk sidled up to her again. "Take no thought of his words, miss. Expensive fancies is what defines some people, ain't it? But if you'll pardon me plain speakin', you appear to be in a spot of trouble with some folk over a wee bit o' gold."

She nodded.

He smiled and proceeded to dangle his bait before her. "Seems I've got a bit o' gold handy. How much you need?"

She looked at the floor nervously – or what little she could see through the sea of footwear – before answering quietly, "4700."

His eyes bugged for a moment before he regained his composure and spoke, "Easy enough. Now by way of payment…"

If she had been nervous before, she felt really uneasy now. He hurried to reassure her. "Oh, don't worry. Name's Grope. I have a business, and could use someone like you as one of my employees. Surely, we can do business…"

The light that appeared in her eyes must have told him everything he needed to know. He pulled a document from a pouch on his belt and filled in a couple of blanks on the page before handing it to her. "This here's a contract, statin' that you agree to work for me 'til yer debt is paid in full." She signed before the last word was out of his mouth. They left to pay her bills before she went home for the night.

The next day, she told her parents. "I'm going to leave with him and work off what he's loaned me."

Seamus wasn't yet convinced. "Well, I'll admit that I think a job like this could do you some good. But I'm rather concerned about this business. Who is this man, and what kind of merchandise does he deal?"

Sophia smiled; she could show her father that she'd found a good deal in this job. "His name is Mr. Grope, and as for products, he wasn't too specific; but he did say that his wares were always in high demand."

Seamus considered, then nodded a short nod. "Sounds as though you've found an excellent opportunity."

She smiled again as she stood to leave, stopping only to hug her mother and grab her last bag of clothes. Grope was waiting in the street for her, having already sent a cart ahead with the rest of her vast quantity of luggage. He leered at her as they departed.

Several hours elapsed as they passed through Greatwood and into Darkwood. Sophia recalled that Elvira Gray was forever describing the beauty of this region, though how anyone could call this gloom beautiful was beyond her. They stepped into the muck of Darkwood Lake, and she shuddered at the murky filth all about her. "How much farther must we go?"

He chuckled and pointed at a sturdy wooden gate and wall just a short way from the main path. "There's home."

Cheer and excitement swelled within her as they entered into a lovely, well-kept garden estate that stood in sharp relief to the miasma outside the wall. She looked about. The garden was dominated by a large pond surrounded by trees and gorgeous flowers. Here and there were private little nooks with fountains and benches. Her attention turned to the luxurious two-story house set upon a hill overlooking the garden. So this was to be her home. "So when can I meet the other employees?"

Grope snickered again before waving on toward the lone building. "You'll find 'em in there. Go on; go meet them."

She rushed toward the house. As she approached, she noticed standing in the doorway a young, slim light-haired woman whose dark coloring clearly identified her as being from beyond Albion's coasts. The exotic notes of her voice confirmed it as she turned into the house and called for someone. A stout older woman with auburn tresses just starting to go gray stepped out onto the expansive porch just as Sophia stepped up from the path.

"Greetings." The older woman said in a thickly accented voice. "I am Madame Minzche. What brings you to our door, young lady?"

Sophia beamed at her. "I'm a new employee here at the company."

She would have continued but for the look of pity on Minzche's face. "Oh, no. "

Sophia was befuddled at this reaction. "What's wrong?"

Minzche sighed and began, "This is no ordinary company. You now wor-"

"Work for the Darkwood Bordello." Grope stated in a victorious manner as he stepped up behind Sophia. "Speaking of which, Lucrezia, help 'Lady Sophia' here find some clothes more…_appropriate_ to her new occupation."

As he gave the order, Sophia looked about the interior of the structure. The entryway doubled as a small eating area. Several workmen sat around the lone table, finishing the remnants of a lunch. Tools strewn about the chamber indicated that they were here in a professional capacity, though the way they were leering at the women made Sophia worry about the terms of payment. One man stood and headed to a small bar tucked into a niche on the other side of the room. Behind it stood a surly, short, stubby, pudgy hobbe of a man, only with worse manners. Nearby stood Minzche and a wrinkled, old hag who'd clearly endured a great deal of abuse in her many years. Over by the table, intently trying to stare down some of the workmen, was a freakish woman who appeared better suited for life outside the gates than in.

A dark hand waved through the air, getting her attention. The dark woman she'd seen in the doorway upon arriving stood by a narrow flight of stairs gesturing for her to follow. This must be Lucrezia. Sophia despondently moved to follow her up.

Once they reached the half finished upstairs, Lucrezia glanced back to ensure that they were alone before quietly speaking. "Grope will give us all the time we need, so long as it doesn't cost him. So what is your story? How did he rope you in?"

Sophia grimaced and recounted her tale. Lucrezia nodded and sympathized throughout the story. Sophia found herself connecting with the dark-skinned beauty in a way she'd not been able to enjoy in Bowerstone. This emboldened her to ask, "So how about you?"

Lucrezia shrugged as she searched the garments in the massive closet for something fetching and fitting. "No, Grope acquired my services in a much more straightforward manner, with remarkably little deception on his part. I was taken from Samarkand by slavers, and Grope showed up, took one look at me and told the slavers that he would buy me because 'this lass is too much a beauty to be wasted in some old fart's kitchen or such.' I took it to mean that he was going to free me. I was only fooling myself. He brought me here with Minchze and Polly. We have been here about three years."

She noted Sophia's confused expression and answered, "I'll explain whatever you want to know in a minute. Now, try this dress."

The dress was maroon silk with thin straps over the shoulders, low-cut in front and lower in back. It was just long enough to sweep the floor as she walked about, and it fit as though it was tailored for her. She looked at her reflection; the dress almost helped her forget the surroundings in which she'd come across it.

Lucrezia looked her over with a critical eye. "Yes, it will do…if we can find a good accessory."

Sophia asked why an accessory was necessary. The reply was simple enough. "Grope is obviously planning to make use of your upper-class upbringing. Anyway, you appeared curious when I mentioned Minchze and Polly. Minchze you've met. She is actually the last of the old women from the last owner. Grope actually bought the Bordello - well, cheated the previous owner out of it – to get free access to her. She almost found out where he's hidden all the deeds and the contracts – she could have freed us easily. But, apparently, Grope wasn't quite drunk enough to fall for it. He made her the Madame to keep her from enlisting any aid, though she continues to try.

"Polly is the old lady who stays near the bar. She is a widow from Witchwood who inherited her husband's business debts upon his death. She left word that she was available to work, and Grope hired her, with a sneaky clause in the contract that let him make her do anything he desired and would not let her quit.

"Hedwig – the creepy-looking she-devil – is a former bandit chief. Her gang deposed her and traded her for two days' access to all the women. One girl ended up killing herself; and another ran off, which caused Grope to hunt her down and kill her."

By now, they'd selected a dazzling pair of sapphire earrings and a gold bracelet to add to Sophia's outfit. Lucrezia started to help her with the earrings and quietly continued, "Your best hope is that someone manages to steal the deeds and contracts from Grope. Otherwise, you will never be free in this lifetime."

Sophia almost whirled to face her new acquaintance before recalling that the Samarkandian woman was presently attempting to pass a sharp point through her earlobe. "I thought I could pay him back with my earnings!"

Lucrezia snickered. "You won't earn much if you don't stop the shyness. But even if you succeed in that, Grope will charge you enough each month to ensure you don't ever pay all you owe. The only money you will be able to keep is whatever you make above your payment. After all, Grope doesn't care about how much we charge, so long as he gets his share."

Then Lucrezia finished with the earrings and scowled. "Actually, that is the least of your troubles. Grope will soon come to you to…assert his authority in a rather despicable manner."

Sophia's perplexed look prompted Lucrezia to elaborate. As she explained, Sophia's eyes grew quite wide with horror. "How can he-?

"Because he owns us. Literally. Don't worry; it's not so bad if you picture your first instead of Grope." Lucrezia continued to read the young woman's face. The continuing look of horror told her everything. "You mean…"

Sophia could only mutely shake her head in distress.

Lucrezia began to feel the same horror displayed on the former heiress's face. Suddenly, the object of their anguish bellowed up from below. "What's keeping ya, ladies?!"

The two women sullenly returned to the first level. Most of the workmen were standing from the table and sizing up the ladies. Grope piped up, "The new wench is off-limits for the time being. Any of the others is fair game."

One of the workmen separated from the others and headed straight for Grope. "You promised me gold, Grope. That was our agreement."

Sophia wondered at this man who refused to take payment in the manner being offered. Then she more clearly saw his face. It was Timothy McLandre, a masterbuilder from Bowerstone who'd done a great deal of work for her father. She stepped closer to him. "Mr. McLandre?"

The man turned and blanched at the sight before him. "Miss Sophia?!"

Grope scowled at the obvious recognition of each other. "Don't be thinking of trying any escape ideas out; even the Mayor couldn't spring her."

Wordlessly Tim left with his tools and pay. The look he directed at Sophia gave her news she both hoped for and dreaded. Her father would surely hear of this…


	3. Enter the Hero

A/N: Thank you for your extreme patience.

Chapter 3: Enter the Hero

Sophia bolted upright in her bed, breathing heavily in fright. She caught her breath, then scowled. It was _the_ Dream, just as she'd feared. The Dream that was formed solely of memories best forgotten.

Knowing her time of sleep was over, Sophia rose and took a seat in front of the fire. She began to stir the embers back to life, her gaze becoming lost in the flame as her mind became lost in still more memories…

Sophia glared down the hall at her latest "customer's" back. The overweight, balding cretin had a noticeable swagger. It disgusted her.

_Oh, well. Least it's over._

She rose from the bed, dressed quickly, and tucked some of the gold with which the client had paid for her "services" into a pouch within the corner cupboard given her for personal use. Then, before the guard could see what she was about, she hurried downstairs.

As she stepped down, she passed Amelia, the newest prisoner of the Bordello, leading a client up. The young girl had a perpetual air of innocence and a manner that Sophia had overheard best defined as "the girl next door". The poor lass's story started in the tiny village of Oakvale. The daughter of a poor barmaid, she'd taken to supplementing her paltry allowance through pickpocketing.

Unfortunately, she'd been caught picking the wrong pocket – Grope's. Grope had gladly traded his silence for her servitude, and he continued to blackmail her into submission.

Some of the other girls had changed only in their appearance. Hedwig had traded in her bandit's bodysuit for leather garments with metal studs that looked as though they would be more properly used in restraining a horse than as clothing. Lucrezia had been decked out in gold, while Sophia now wore a resplendent blue silk dress. The two were clearly intended to represent the height of the exotic and the luxurious.

There were other changes to the Bordello itself. Paint had been retouched; most of the woodwork had been refinished. Morton, the creepy old bartender, had been fired a month ago after starting his seventh fight in one week…on Tuesday morning. In his place was old Harry, a tragic grandfatherly sort who at least had the decency to look ashamed about the ladies' plight. Grope had hired him just before commissioning the extensive groundswork that had been finished only a couple of days ago.

That had been rather odd, Sophia thought. Grope had been abnormally absorbed in the project, displaying an exactness, precision, and care he normally didn't seem to possess. In fact, he'd been so absorbed that he'd neglected food, sleep, the ladies, even money.

It had been that inattention that had allowed Sophia to advance her own "project" by leaps and bounds. Lucrezia's prediction had come true that night of her arrival some three years ago. Her own prediction regarding Mr. McLandre had come true two days later. Her father had arrived with a bluster and thunder she'd never before seen in him.

Grope had discussed the matter with him out in the garden, away from the building. Sophia had seen her father pull out a fancy-looking document. _Probably something to do with contract law_, thought Sophia knew it would do no good. She'd learned her skills at reading a contract from her father, and she knew that her pact with Grope was perfectly legal. Unfortunately, Grope knew it, too, judging by his confident posture. Seamus Ednow appeared very upset and left in a huff, stopping only to cast a look filled with disappointment, disgust, and spite at her.

At that moment, Sophia had known that she was on her own, and so she'd devised a plan to buy her own freedom. She had begun charging more than Grope required, skimming off the extra and saving it amid her few personal things until she could pay off the debt wholesale. During the garden renovation, she'd skimmed off even more than usual , and was now almost two-thirds of the way to repayment and freedom.

Her reverie was broken by a creak of a stair as Amelia returned to the main floor. Thus startled, she looked about making certain no customers had been trying to secure her "services". After satisfying herself that no one was, she turned to ask Amelia a question, only to see the younger woman's mouth agape.

She turned in curiosity, to find a rather rakishly handsome man standing in the doorway. His jet-black hair waved in the light breeze coming through the door, and his blue eyes sparkled as he spoke to Grope. He listened to Grope's lecherous sales pitch, then chatted with Minzche for a short time.

The two glanced her way a few times during the discussion, leaving Sophia with mixed feelings regarding her distaste for her profession against the opportunity it appeared ready to grant her. Amelia leaned over and whispered, "You lucky duck. You're about to get the best-looking man ever to set foot in here!"

Sophia smiled and responded, "We all have our burdens. " She looked back at the man. "Who is he?"

"He's a Hero called Saber. The rumors I've heard say he's from Oakvale. I've also heard he has something of a taste for the high-"

Amelia suddenly stopped talking. Sophia felt a presence and mouthed a question. "He's right behind me, isn't he?"

Amelia smiled and gave a quick little nod. Sophia summoned up her charm, turned, and...was immediately struck speechless.

It was fast evident that the Hero was suffering the same affliction. Finally, he regained his voice. "I see Grope is ignorant of the true value of the treasure he has here. Dare I ask the price of engaging your services?"

She smiled while contemplating offering a discounted price. Unfortunately, the reality of her situation demanded that she keep the price up…mostly. "Well, that silver tongue of yours suggests you could afford my price of 1500 gold easily enough. Or will you decide that I'm overestimating my worth?"

Saber smiled. "No, I'm certain you are worth every coin of that sum. Should I pay upfront, then?"

Sophia smiled in turn. "Follow me, and we'll take care of our…business."

She turned amid the sea of envious stares and led him to the stairs. As they ascended , she couldn't shake the feeling that her life was about to change again.


	4. Bittersweet Remembrance

Chapter 4: Bittersweet Remembrance

The Hero made certain to return many times over the next year, always coming exclusively to her. Grope became increasingly irritated by this; while Saber paid the price named, he monopolized Sophia's time during his presence (and quite often for a couple of days after), which cost Grope customers willing to pay handsomely for her services.

His ire increased immensely after an incident in which the Hero bought him drinks until he was uncomfortably drunk. The lecherous proprietor had repeatedly ordered Sophia to charge Saber several times the normal fee as revenge for this and numerous other problems he chose to lay at the Hero's feet.

After a couple of months of this, Saber had had his fill of Grope's antics, and had revealed his possession of the ownership papers and contracts. Grope had spluttered and cursed, then finally stormed out before the new owner could have the guards drag him away.

The result was a Bordello little changed, aside from her withdrawal from the offered list. Her new official duties consisted of nothing, though she had taken over the keeping of the books when Saber was away. During his visits, they simply enjoyed each other's company, often walking through the garden as they conversed. It was during one such time that the hopeful brightness of Sophia's world darkened once more.

With the cessation of her previous activities, her cache of gold no longer grew. She was now unable to earn the money to purchase her freedom. Her heart also ached for her friends, who were still trapped in the horrible occupation that had so long enslaved them. Thus, it was an easy decision to try to use her influence with the new owner on their behalf.

The discussion concluded less hopefully than she'd planned.

He hadn't turned the idea down outright, but he hadn't leapt at it, either. He'd simply listened as she made her appeal. Taking his silence as a bias against it, she'd decided to sweeten the deal by divulging the existence of her nest egg and had offered it up as a payment toward their collective freedom.

Saber had stopped her short at those words. He'd turned and stared fro where they stood at the gate up over the small property. Finally, he'd turned back to her and told her he would consider her words, practically biting out each syllable as he said so. As she gloomily returned to the house, she'd glanced back at him. She found in his eyes several conflicting emotions, not the least of which was a strong sense of hurt.

Now, the next morning, she looked back down at the bundle on the other pillow, her face pulling into a bittersweet grimace as she read her lover's note once more. The text was simple enough – he told her that he would honor her request and turn the property into a sanctuary. Toward that end, he was giving her the contracts and the deed to deal with appropriately. Indeed, she had but to look through the window to see the gate still barred and the guards simply…guarding.

The end of the note, however, broke her heart. Saber would not return to this place again. He was taking an invitation to the Arena in Witchwood, and then he would see what he would find to do. She at last had her freedom. Sophia couldn't help but wonder if her words had hurt him, and, in so doing, driven off the man she loved…

The other women had been understandably ecstatic at the news. They had danced and jumped for joy; Sophia couldn't blame them. Only Lucrezia had taken note of her mood. She sat down with her friend. "Are you all right?"

The former merchant heiress shook her head. "No." She began to sob.

Lucrezia pulled her into a hug. "Now, now, dear. Surely your Hero will be bac-"

The Samarkandian stopped as she felt Sophia tense; she pulled back to look the brunette in the eye. "As bad as that?"

Sophia cut to the chase. "He said he won't be back. I think I hurt him terribly by what I said."

The exotic woman smiled sadly at her. "If your man is hurting, he should tell you, not disappear."

Sophia shrugged and mutely walked back to her room. Both Lucrezia and Minzche looked in on her later.

The heiress simply stared out the window.

* * *

Sophia stirred from her reverie and mechanically went about her routine. The rest of the story was simple and obvious enough. She'd left the Sanctuary and come here to Oakvale. The village had needed a teacher; she had needed a job. They'd given her a house and a salary. That was over a year ago.

An intrusion came in the form of some of the village ladies all but swooning as they described a man in details that any of them would have blushed to have repeated. The teacher tried to disregard the ribald gossip, but soon resigned herself to not studying anymore until the ladies' conversation was over. In the meantime, she supposed there were some supplies she really should pick up.

She collected what she needed and walked toward the center of town and the shops, whose keepers regarded her with a healthy mixture of fear and respect. As she passed the entrance to the Memorial Graveyard, she couldn't help but notice a pair of weasely men trying their hardest (and failing miserably) to sneak into the graveyard without being seen. She rolled her eyes at the ridiculous sight and pressed on.

In the general store, Bart, the storekeeper, was busy haggling with a brawny-looking woodsman (who was likely the subject of all the gossip), so Sophia began to browse.

The haggling with the woodsman was getting rather intense. As she perused the shelves, she couldn't help but overhear the conversation between the shopkeeper and the woodsman. "I'm tellin' ya, we ain't heard nuttin 'bout any stolen jewels. An' just tryin' to get people to talk to ya will take some magic for a bloke workin' for Lady Grey."

The woodsman sagged in frustration. "Well, if anyone is able and willing to lend me aid, it would be greatly appreciated."

The response was delivered in a voice that chilled her. Oh, certainly, the tone was pleasant enough, but the precise diction and even the voice itself were familiar. The speech was clear, like someone who had traveled about a great deal and lost any regional vocal mannerisms. The voice she'd heard many times, in varying tones, such that she would recognize it to her dying day. It had haunted her dreams just last night.

She hazarded a glance at the "woodsman's" satchel near the shop door. As she'd expected, armor could be seen within. Sophia braced herself and finally turned her gaze to the face of the newcomer.

But no amount of preparation could have prepared her to once again see Saber.


	5. An Unhappy Reunion

Chapter 5: An Unhappy Reunion

* * *

Sophia looked away and waited for Saber to leave before approaching the counter. Her attempt at maintaining anonymity was cut short, however, when the old proprietor noticed her and greeted her rather boisterously. "Well, hullo, Miss Sophia. Here for yer usual?"

The teacher saw Saber stiffen at her name and glance over his shoulder at her. She pressed on as though she'd never before seen him. "Yes, Bart, thank you. Any specials?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Saber hoist his satchel and step through the door. Bart snorted at her query, pulling her attention back to the counter. "Specials? Miss Sophia, the last time I had a special, you cleaned my pockets so completely that I've _yet_ to have enough gold to offer another."

She gave an innocent shrug. "Can't fault a lady for trying." She collected her packages and left.

Yes, the merchants around town and out in the camp in the Barrow Fields could all attest quite energetically (some in rather coarse language) that the blood of the Ednow traders flowed in her veins.

As she emerged from the shop, she was greeted with the expected sight of Saber leaning against the nearby stone fence, pretending to be nonchalant. The fact that he was tracking her every movement with his eyes all but announced his wish to speak with her.

Sophia steeled her nerves and walked to him, stopping a couple of steps away.

Silence loomed between them.

Apprehension morphed into frustration, and the teacher briefly considered heading home. Ultimately, however, she chose to remain. "Hello, Saber."

The warrior remained mute.

Frustration turned to indignation. Sophia almost slapped him before taking a new course of action. "I'm going to the tavern for a bit to eat. You can come along if you wish."

She turned and began walking toward the tavern. As she'd anticipated, he was walking beside her by the third step.

They entered and made their way through the other patrons to the bar. Sophia decided to try the roast rabbit with vegetables. As she sat down at one of the back tables, contemplating the irony of her lunch, Saber approached with a platter of mystery meat drowned in a dark, thick gravy.

She watched with an expression of equal parts distaste and nausea as he took a bite. After entirely too long, he choked the "morsel" down and reached for his flask to wash away the bitter aftertaste.

Sophia finally asked, "Broiled Hobbe bits?"

Her partner eyed his plate warily. "You may be more right than you know."

They ate quietly for a few minutes. Once again, it was Sophia who broke the silence. "So, what brings you to Oakvale?"

He remained mute as he chewed, and Sophia wondered whether he was pondering how best to answer her question or simply trying to avoid gagging on the putrid meat. Finally, he swallowed uncomfortably. "I'm investigating a theft. A valuable necklace was taken from a woman in Bowerstone North, and she has asked me to retrieve it. So far, I've managed to trace it here."

Sophia searched her memory for a moment, then shook her head. "Nothing like that's turned up here. Besides, as you might have noticed, the local merchants aren't really in a position to buy anything like that at present."

Something flashed to mind suddenly. "Actually, Percy and Lars have been acting odder than usual."

At the warrior's confused look, she elaborated. "They're a pair of witless numbskulls with a penchant for petty theft. Occasionally, they actually manage to steal something, though it's usually found in a day or two. Anyway, I noticed them doing a poor job of slinking quietly into the Memorial Graveyard."

Saber considered the information for a second, then nodded. "Well, it's more than I had when I got here."

As he began to rise from the table, she queried, "What exactly does this necklace look like, in case I should come across any information regarding it?"

He started patting each of his many pockets in turn before recalling which one held the item he was seeking, from which he extracted a sketch. As Sophia examined the given dimensions and colors, a chill of recognition seized her. Saber appeared not to notice. "As you can see , it really is quite clas-"

"That's Amanda Grey's necklace!"

He shrugged in response. "Well, actually, now it's her sister's; Lady Grey states she's worn it since her sister died."

"Since Elvira murdered her, more like." Sophia spat out. She turned to face her former lover. "Amanda Grey was supposed to be the Mayor, 'til she 'mysteriously disappeared'. What are you doing with the likes of Elvira Grey?"

The warrior shrugged once more. "She's single; she's beautiful; she's rich; and she's powerful. Which, all in all, sounds like an ideal package to me. So, I figure that if I do the favors she's asking of me, it'll give me a leg up in wooing her."

The former heiress gaped back at him. He smiled. "Well, then, I have some ne'er-do-wells to track down. So, toodles."

He rose from the table, stopped by the bar to leave a small stack of gold coins, then slid out the door.

Sophia remained still for a moment; then she slapped her hands to the table as she rose and bolted after the Hero. As she reached him, she caught hold of his sleeve.

As he turned toward her, Saber could see on her face that shock had given way to anger.

"What are you thinking?" She hissed. "She killed her own sister, for Avo's sake! What in all of Albion makes you think the same won't happen to you the _instant_ you cease to be useful to her?"

The teacher stopped to catch her breath, then continued in a quieter voice, "Saber…what's happened to you? Whatever happened to us?"

Saber glared back at her incredulously. "Us? US? You made it quite clear that there was no 'us'."

She fumed back at him. "I never said anything of the sort."

"I believe your exact words were 'You could consider this a down payment toward our freedom.' Key word there is 'our'."

Sophia was taken aback. " If those were my words, that was not my meaning. I only m-"

Saber interrupted. "It was fairly obvious after that that you were only with me because I was the holder of your contract."

The teacher was now becoming visibly upset. "That's not true. You don't understand…but, of course, instead of asking me about all this, you chose to run away."

The Hero snorted. "Oh, that's rich, coming from you."

"What are you talking about?"

He snarled in her face, "Oh, come off it. We both know that you haven't yet reconciled things with your family. Or have you? Tell me I'm wrong, and that everything's all right with Daddy Dearest, and I'll take it all back."

This time, it was the former heiress who allowed the silence to answer for her.

Saber sneered. "Thought not."

He turned toward the Barrow Fields and began walking away.

"Talk to Rhodri."

The plea in the quiet, brittle-sounding voice caused him to turn halfway back to her. As her voice suggested, Sophia looked as though she might shatter at the slightest touch, but she continued. "Please. He was Amanda's fiancé. Apparently, he's spent just about every day since her disappearance over by the Demon Door, mourning her. If anyone has proof of the monster Elvira really is, it's him."

He stared coldly back at her before resuming his course toward the Fields. She watched as he did so. Hope tried to grow in her heart that his direction was based upon her plea. But she doubted it.

The day seemed rather bleaker as she gloomily trudged back to her home.


	6. Rattled Saber

Chapter 6: Rattled Saber

* * *

As Saber marched through the streets of Bowerstone, he resolved once more to leave Oakvale far in his past. Every time he traveled there, he seemed to return with more unhappy memories. This last visit was no different.

He'd gone this time to find Lady Grey's missing necklace. Thanks to the information he'd turned up, it had been successfully recovered. How those two had swiped it in the first place still mystified him. To call Percy and Lars numbskulls would be to give true numbskulls a bad name; a more witless pair of idiots he hoped never to see.

However, he had to admit, that very fact had played to his favor as he had crept up and eavesdropped upon them. Then, it had been a simple matter of acquiring a shovel and digging at the designated location to retrieve the stolen jewelry.

He had, however, expected to run across _her_. Sophia Ednow had stepped back into his life, and in so doing, had very much complicated matters. Granted, she had possessed the critical bit of information that had cracked the case. However, that in itself contributed to his turmoil.

Their luncheon in the pub had ground upon him as he had recalled his last meeting there, with Whisper. If he closed his eyes, he could still taste the salty mix of sweat and dust from the Arena. He could feel the weight of his sword, raised high in the air. He could hear the jeers and shouts of the crowd, along with the desperate pleading of the woman on the ground before him as she begged for her life. He would not have been shocked to open his eyes to see the eerie mask of Jack of Blades as he rested a hand on a large sum of gold and promised it to Saber if he would but end Whisper's miserable little life.

And he could remember the war that had unexpectedly begun in his soul. On the one side, his familiar, old nature stood, pointing to the money and reminding the warrior of the problems Whispers had caused him over the years.

On the other stood Sophia. Despite his best efforts to ignore the image, the Hero had not been able to get away from the conclusion that while sparing her might not be the smartest choice, it was surely the right one.

His decision made, he had brought his sword down. But it had not spilled Whisper's blood to stain the floor of the Arena. Instead, the blade rang quietly as it slid into the sheath on his back. No one present had been more shocked that Saber himself. Not trusting his voice, he had silently turned from his former rival and walked off to the cells.

Business had brought him to Oakvale the following week. His stomach had brought him to the tavern. An hour later, Whisper was bidding him a fond farewell and boarding the ship that would carry her from Albion's shores forever…

Saber was startled back to the present by a laborer who was only just able to get out of the way. The warrior spied the Ednow Traders crest sealing the crate in the laborer's arms and scowled. Sophia's influence still haunted him. He'd planned to complete his task in Oakvale, then leave directly via Cullis Gate; Sophia's plea had so appealed to his sense of curiosity that the original plan had become impossible to carry out.

So he'd sought this Rhodri and had spoken with him as asked. To say Rhodri was mourning was a gross understatement. He was clearly pining for his lost beloved, something that had never sat well with the Hero. Saber had been prepared to dismiss the young man's claims outright, but something in the mourner's words resisted such treatment. While there had been some negative remarks made about Elvira Grey, it had been Rhodri's description of _Amanda_ that had reached from one Oakvale man to the other.

The character described was everything Saber had long argued a ruler should be. And yet, an egalitarian guardian of the hard-working poor wasn't the aspect that had best connected with the Hero. Rhodri's love had shone through his comments in a way that Saber knew he himself had once felt for Sophia.

Now, on the streets of Bowerstone, the conflict started by all this still raged within the warrior as he neared the Mayoral estate. A sense of unease began to rise in his heart as he rounded the corner and entered the courtyard.

But Lady Grey was absent. A feeling of almost-relief swept through him. Then, like a joke from the cruel hand of fate, she emerged and called out to him. "Hello, my darling. I do hope that you finally managed to finish that simple task I gave you. I would hate to think that you didn't love me enough to make this your top priority."

He smirked as he produced the necklace. "Have no fear, milady. The greatest of Heroes has come to your aid."

"Oh, thank you, my dear. You are proving quite worthy of my continued attention. However, you are not the only Arena winner contending for my hand. Thunder still makes his advances toward me. While quite flattering, I do find it all rather bewildering that two such powerful men would both be interested in me." She had meandered toward one of the nearby garden topiaries as she spoke, but now turned to face Saber; the vaguely sinister gleam in her eye transformed his unease into full-on dread. "If you two could somehow settle this – say, in a battle – the answer would be much clearer to me."

She inclined her head and continued in an imperious tone, "Go; find Thunder. The victor shall receive my hand."

Though her mouth closed, Saber could almost hear Jack of Blades finishing the thought. _The loser shall have the privilege of _dying_ before you._

Suppressing a shudder, he bowed and left.

* * *

The barmaid placed the drink on the table and hurried off to take orders from some new arrivals. Saber glanced briefly at the new beverage before draining the last swallow from the one in his hand. He'd told the bartender to keep them coming, but a third drink right now might not be the wisest course. After all, his purpose for being here was not to get drunk, but to think. As he sat here, looking out at the streets of Bowerstone South, he found he had much to think about.

Four hours ago, Lady Grey had all but told him to kill Thunder.

Saber scowled. Thunder had antagonized him for years. And the strongman had plenty of reasons to hate the warrior from Oakvale now in turn. Furthermore, his threat that new blood would spill like any other hadn't been exactly subtle. So there was no shortage of motive for them to fight.

However, it was not Thunder who had prompted the trip to the tavern. Instead, it was Elvira Grey and her order that caused the Hero such misgivings.

Her purpose was clear enough. One need not be particularly scholarly, or even all that bright, to realize that she was trying to ensure that she was with the most powerful Hero. And yet, it was this very action that was causing him anguish.

He found himself, as had been occurring recently with alarming frequency, comparing Elvira with Sophia. Sophia would never – HAD never required such a demonstration of superiority.

Oh, certainly, in the beginning, it had been strictly business; but there had been a spark of attraction that had made the transaction a bit more enjoyable. That relationship had blossomed on its own, with no demands for gifts, favors, or shows of wealth, cunning, or skill.

She had simply accepted him as he was.

Saber pushed through to those memories, painful though the process was. Looking back, he could see that she had always taken the bad with the good, reaching to that good to draw it out. It hadn't been for her own gain; she had simply seen a better person in him.

So how was it that Sophia and Elvira were so different? Both had been raised in the high society of Bowerstone North. Why was one so shallow and cold, while the other was (though his ego was loath to admit it) warm and caring?

Perhaps it was due to the fact that Lady Grey had not fallen from grace as Sophia had. Perhaps-

A large, brawny hand seized Saber's shoulder and jerked him around. He found himself staring back at Thunder.

The older Hero sneered. "So, _you_ are the pretender attempting to steal the Lady's favor. Well, no farmboy will get in _my_ way."

His fist drew back a fraction, then stopped. Saber followed his gaze off to the side and saw Horace, one of the sterner guards who patrolled the streets. He'd asked the bartender for an apple and now leaning against the bar, eating and pointedly looking in the general direction of the two Heroes.

Thunder leaned close. "If you are man enough, meet me at the executioner's block at the top of Headsman's Hill. I can think of no better place to kill you."

Years of insults and degradation edged past Saber's earlier doubts. He stood and returned Thunder's fiery glare. "Name the time."


	7. The Storm

Chapter 7: The Storm

* * *

A small mob accompanied the Hero from Oakvale as he marched through the Gibbet Woods. He and Thunder had agreed to wait one day. Thunder had claimed it was to give Saber plenty of time to prepare, but the younger Hero was positive that the delay was more to give news of the duel ample time to spread. After all, the Hero from the South Isles was certainly expecting victory, and he would be wanting to ensure that his rival's defeat was as public – and as humiliating – as possible.

Hence, the crowd.

And yet their cheers were again being drowned out by the noise of his thoughts. As before, Saber was quite confident of his own ability to defeat his opponent. The question before him was, once more, "Why fight him?" Saber was himself undecided in what his feelings were regarding Lady Grey. Why, then, not simply step aside for Thunder?

Because he _was_ undecided. If he should choose to ignore his intuition and marry her, Thunder would continue to be an impediment. But, if he chose to consider her a threat, that danger was as great for Thunder as for himself.

One would think that giving a rational explanation of all this to Thunder would be simple. After, all many people claimed he could be quite reasonable. However, there were factors complicating this process. First, the warning was about Lady Grey, about whom Thunder would tolerate no ill word. Secondly, it was from Saber, his rival. Either of these alone would have caused the older Hero to unjustly dismiss the charge. The two together made convincing him a lost cause.

And that answered why they must fight. Either way Saber proceeded, Thunder would have to be driven off.

The Oakvale warrior began to stretch his shoulders as he neared the top of the hill. A moment later, the executioner's block appeared as he approached. Of course, even in the fading light, he knew he'd not have had a problem finding his destination. All he needed to do was close his eyes and follow the sound of Thunder's boasting.

The Hero from the South Isles stood facing many of his fans. A second group was loudly booing his every word. They would likely be the "Saber" fans present. A couple of them noticed his arrival and started to cheer loudly. As the rest of the group took up the call, Thunder turned to face the commotion, then to the object of their attention. His face hardened as Saber stepped closer.

"So, you have come to your own execution, then." He said as he drew down his helmet and cinched the strap tight. "The winner gets the Lady."

Saber pulled his sword. "Agreed."

Thunder took up his own sword and a large shield. The two Heroes began to circle, each trying to find a hole in the other's defense while blocking off their own weak spots.

A few experimental thrusts and swings later, Thunder sneered. "Give it up, farmboy. You cannot possibly defeat me."

Saber smirked back at him. "Is this how you win all your battles, Thunder? By talking your enemies to death instead of fighting them?"

Thunder's sneer turned to a snarl, and he drove in. But if he was flailing rashly and providing many of the hoped-for openings, the sheer number and brute force of his blows kept his opponent from being able to take advantage of them. The onslaught continued for several minutes, as Thunder attacked and Saber parried, with occasional switching of their roles.

At last, Thunder stepped back and stabbed his blade into the air. As Saber watched, lightning charged up the Island Warrior's gauntlet, through his weapon to the tip, where it split and raced down in several tendrils to the ground, just barely missing his rival.

Thunder smirked. With a flick of his wrist, the ring of electricity began spinning rapidly. Saber tried to dodge, but one of the bolts caught his foot, lancing through his plate armor to the warrior within. The Oakvale Hero felt the lightning course throughout his body, leaving him stunned and momentarily paralyzed.

Thunder seized the opportunity and whipped his sword about in an attempt to separate Saber's head from the rest of him. Saber managed to drop to the ground, gladly accepting the bruises and scrapes from the rocks there as the cost of his life.

His opponent raised his blade to strike again. Saber looked up and saw his chance.

_Sorry, Thunder, but this is an all-out fight to survive._ With that thought in mind, he drove his boot up into Thunder's groin.

He felt armor there, but the force still travelled through, staggering the older warrior. Saber pulled a knife from a hidden sheath in his gauntlet and scythed it out in an arc that caught part of Thunder's chest and the strap of his helmet.

He was able to stand while the other dealt with his wounds, then jabbed his elbow down against the back of Thunder's head. The islander dropped to the ground.

Saber raised his arms to celebrate his victory as his fans cheered all the harder. A gasp from an onlooker was his only warning before Thunder slammed into him, clearly intending to push him over the cliff. As they broke through the fence, Saber grasped for anything that could keep him from falling.

Unfortunately, the only such thing within reach was Thunder. The pair teetered for a moment, then plummeted over the cliff.

He felt a brief sense of weightlessness, and then the world flared as blinding pain surged through his body. For a minute, that pain was his reality; then, it ebbed off a bit, and he was finally able to open his eyes.

He'd landed on a small, rocky spit of land. Nearby, his sword sat in a shallow pool. He tried to push himself up, but a sharp pain shot up his arm. He stood with the help of the other hand, then gasped as more injuries to his legs and ribs made their presence known. He stretched painfully, stumbled over to his sword, then looked about for his opponent.

Thunder was rising from the ground a short distance away, amid a series of painful hisses, bruised groans, and fiery curses. He removed his damaged helmet to reveal a matching cut that crossed from his forehead back into his hairline toward his temple. As he turned to face Saber, fury began to burn in his eyes as his hand found his blade.

"The Lady is _mine_!" he hissed, and charged again.

The Heroes clashed, dodged, charged. Saber found a hole in Thunder's defense and added a cut to his arm. Thunder, in turn, backfisted his rival. Saber staggered before backing against the cliffside.

Thunder was pressing his attack almost immediately. There was just enough time for Saber to draw his knees to his chin and kick the older Hero fiercely in the gut.

As Thunder lurched backward, he tripped over a rock and fell back to the ground. Saber was upon him then, grabbing his sword hand and trying to bring his own weapon to bear. Thunder locked the Oakvale warrior's wrist in a similar manner, and the men grappled on the ground. Both fought on tenaciously, each trying to gain the upper hand as they rolled about.

In this fashion, they rolled into a small cave nearby. As they passed the threshold of the cave, Thunder drew his head back, then catapulted forward into Saber's brow, stunning him. This new advantage allowed the older man to risk releasing his foe to bring a powerful blow to Saber's already wounded ribs.

Saber rolled off with a grunt. He turned back toward Thunder to find him already standing. The glare in his eye was more than half-mad as he bellowed, "If I cannot have her, no one will!"

He attacked again, this time with the lightning wheel. In the tight confines of the cave, there was no way to avoid being struck.

Saber knew what to expect, however; though the potent charge still made even breathing difficult, he was ready for Thunder's follow-up tactic. When the brute tried to slice through him, he rolled under the attack, slicing across the back of Thunder's right leg.

Thunder jerked at the wound, then responded by clubbing at Saber with a rock he'd grabbed at some point. One blow connected with Saber's hand knocking his sword away. Saber stepped back and pulled his longbow loose. With his on arm so brutally mauled by the fall, he could not possibly hope to fire it. But he was behind Thunder, who was now clearly feeling the toll taken by the severity and number of his wounds.

And Ebony was a notoriously hard material.

Saber whipped the bow against the back of Thunder's head. Its sleek, graceful lines were destroyed as the weapon shattered. Thunder dropped to the ground on his hands and knees, not yet able to retaliate.

Saber, tired himself, looked about the cave, eventually locating his sword atop a pile of rubble nearby. He drew it up and walked to Thunder, taking care to appear ready for further battle as he stepped into his adversary's field of vision. He placed the edge of the blade-tip just against Thunder's throat. "Do you yield?"

For a moment, his only answer was the older warrior's heavy, pain-filled breathing. Then, Thunder gave a reluctant sigh. "Yes."

He began to rise, stopping as some of his injuries flared with the action. He opened his eyes to see Saber offering a hand to help. Reluctantly, he took it.

He glared at the Hero from Oakvale for a moment, then sighed once more. "The Lady is yours, then."

He turned and silently limped away.

Saber shivered. He'd won. So why then did Thunder's words seem as much a sentence as a concession?

He stepped out into the cooling air of the gathering night. The last rays of sunlight splashed serenely over the sea. The Hero dropped wearily onto a large flat rock near the water's edge. A nearby glint proved to be Thunder's helmet, now looking much abused for their duel.

As he looked at the object in hand, he couldn't help but feel as though this was all wrong. How had it come to this for him? No power or wealth was worth needlessly slaying a good Hero. Lady Grey's demands for such revealed a rather dark and disturbing nature, The question was no longer whether or not she was evil, but rather just how evil she just might actually be.

"I don't know," Saber answered himself aloud, "but I think it time I found out."


	8. Skeletons in the Basement

Ch 8: Skeletons in the Basement

* * *

A pair of ravens called to each other as they flew through the murky sky, likely discussing the evening's menu.

Right now, Saber just wished they'd shut up.

He was kneeling on the ground, trying to light a lantern - an accomplishment that had thus far eluded him for over half an hour. Ordinarily, the task would have been completed within a few seconds; but the musty, dank air and general miasma of the marshes surrounding the Grey House had thus far made it impossible.

He looked around again, convinced that something in the stable walls was watching him. Of course, that _was_ why he was here.

He'd determined that it was time to seek out more information on Elvira Grey's past. The rumors had suggested she'd killed her sister to usurp the Mayorship, but no one had any proof.

At the time, he had dismissed the information; but now, the seed had sprouted, urging him to learn more about Bowerstone's dark mistress. Unfortunately, the only actual witnesses were Elvira... and Amanda.

The alleged murderess would certainly not be confessing voluntarily. Which left the murdered. And while Saber didn't normally consult such witnesses for affairs such as this, something about this unnatural place suggested he might have better fortune with interrogating the deceased.

His discussion with Rhodri had included how the young lovers had coordinated their trysts. Rhodri had mentioned shining a lantern from the stables three times. A single answering flash would signal to come ahead, while two flashes would mean to hide or leave.

Which explained Saber's attempts to light a soggy lantern.

Finally, the light began to glow. He waited a moment to ensure it would hold, then quickly snapped it up and stepped to the window facing the old decrepit dwelling. Feeling more than a little ridiculous, and more than a lot uneasy, he raised and lowered the lantern three times in rapid succession. The light choked out as he awaited a response. He was just considering how ludricrous this venture was when a bluish-white glow flickered on briefly, then vanished.

_Well, I'm either about to speak with the ghost of Amanda Grey, or someone is in for a very quick end._ He thought before stepping out into the murk and muck. The mud and slime on what had once been the pathway to the door was thick enough that he almost waded into the deeper water nearby. Then something large surface from beneath the mire to spit out an Undead head. Going where one could find Undead, much less something that could - and would - eat them was rather far from his plans at the moment.

Some more Undead, led be a Revenant Commander, wandered about further into the marsh, but Saber was only going sa gar as the house. He looked about for some sign of the ghost.

Nothing.

A snippet of his earlier conversation popped into mind then. Rhodri had mentioned that the would meet in or near the cellar. Saber headed around, eventually finding the doors covered in moss and ivy. The weeds seemed almost to try to loop their slick tendrils around him, as though they meant to keep him here forever. He pulled the plants loose and slipped the bolt locking the access down.

As he reached the floor of the subterranean chamber, a misty presence coalesced in front of a weird pile of cloth. The presence became distinct as that of a beautiful young woman who, though not identical to Elvira, looked near enough that she must be Amanda Grey.

"Rhodri, is that you?"

She turned to face the stairs, stopping sharply as Saber came into view. "Wait...you're not him."

She looked about the room in confusion.

Then her eyes settled on the pile of cloth. "Oh. Right."

The air seemed to become gloomier as she became melancholy. Saber hazarded a step closer. As he did so, the pile resolved itself into an exquisite dress, that matched the incorporeal one in which the ghost was attired; it was clothing a skeleton that he could only assume was hers.

The dim light made it difficult to see details, but the Hero could just make out the skeleton's awkward repose, suggesting a collapse followed by an inability to move. Under the tip of one extended skeletal finger lay a piece of stained paper with some writing and a large inkblot at the bottom corner, where the finger rested.

He heard a slight sob and returned his attention to the ghost. She was clearly upset, for obvious reasons. Finally, she broke the eerie quiet.

"I was preparing for a rendezvous with Rhodri when my sister burst into the room, acting distraught. She stammered something about some strange peasant man sneaking into the cellar. My first thought was that Rhodri was early and trying to surprise me, so I made my way there. As I neared the doors, doubts reminded me that Rhodri would never try such a thing; he would wait for my reply. If he didn't get it, he would leave. That was, after all, our arrangement.

"Still, I began to enter the cellar. About halfway down, I felt my sister's hand on my back just before I was pushed down the stairs. I managed to rise, though dazed and shaken. Then I felt...this."

She gestured to the stabbing dart Saber could now see protruding from the corpse's midsection.

"I fell in shock and pain. I rolled over and saw Elvira sauntering back up the stairs, closing and locking the doors behind her. I hoped Rhodri would come rescue me; but, as I said, he would never approach the house without my signal. I could feel my life slipping away; I was already too weak to call out or even stand. So I wrote everything there on that paper."

Saber retrieved the document and brought nearer to a lamp. As he examined it, he asked, "So then, this is..."

"My account of my murder, written in my own hand. Literally."

The way she'd said that made Saber suspicious of something . He re-examined the document, paying special attention to the finger's position compared to the inkblot, pointing at its center, and to the reddish tint of the ink...

"Then...this was written in-" He stopped short, too horrified to give voice to his own thoughts.

Amanda frowned back. "I didn't exactly have a pen available."

Saber looked back at the macabre testimonial in his hand as she continued. "Go. Show the world the power-hungry monster that is the real Lady Elvira Grey."

She stopped, suddenly appearing weary and frail. "Perhaps then, I can finally be at peace."

The ghost dissipated as the Hero watched, dumbstruck. He could scarcely believe what he'd seen and heard tonight.

_The Sheriff! He must be made aware of this! _Saber turned to leave and found a shadowy figure in his way.

"It would seem that you have quite the bargaining chip there, Handsome." Elvira stepped a couple of steps lower.

The Oakvale warrior's voice returned. "How could - you ki- Your own sister?!" He sputtered in shock.

Elvira rolled her eyes. "Oh, come off it! She would have turned Bowerstone into an egalitarian slum. Can you imagine?! She would have squandered her power and wealth! _MY_ wealth!"

She took a breath to continue, but Saber cut her off. "She would've helped those in need! Widows! Orphans! People like Sophia Ednow would have been less likely to fall so far with that kind of champion!"

Elvira's eyes narrowed for a moment at Sophia's name. "If you come against me, I will win. And I will bathe the streets in your blood."

He scoffed. "So, now the true Elvira comes out."

She started for a second, then switched tactics. "You know, it's not too late for us. You could still have me. A one-time offer. No more pretense or delay. You destroy that charming little note; and by this time tomorrow, you and I are husband and wife, and Bowerstone has a new mayor.

"The choice is simple. And it's yours."

Saber considered now. That choice had been given in barest bones. He could avenger Amanda by exposing Elvira. The only reward, however, was "justice", a concept that had always seemed rather elusive to him.

Conversely, he could destroy the evidence and acquire power and wealth about which few could even dream.

In his mind, he heard Sophia's voice. _So, will you make the smart choice...or the right one?_

He made his mind up and turned to tell Elvira Grey his choice.


End file.
